Latest news with #diving
Yahoo
4 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Tom Daley looks back: ‘My management said if I came out, I'd lose sponsorship'
Interactive Born in Plymouth in 1994, Tom Daley is Britain's most decorated diver. He was 13 when he made history as Britain's youngest competitor at the 2008 Olympics, and the following year became a world champion. He won gold at the Tokyo Olympics with his synchronised diving partner, Matty Lee, before retiring from diving in 2024. He is married to the screenwriter Dustin Lance Black, with whom he has two sons. The documentary, Tom Daley: 1.6 Seconds, is available to stream on Discovery+ from 1 June. Advertisement I used to be obsessed with wearing tea towels. I'd make sure the fabric was completely lined-up and tucked in neatly. If it was in the slightest bit ruffled or messy, I would get upset and rip it off and try it all over again. This was the beginning of my perfectionism – and possibly the first signs that I might not be 100% straight. My mum says that as a kid, I was very sweet but I knew what I wanted. What did I want? To do the best I could at anything that I tried. That is still my mentality today. If I'm going to try something and it doesn't work out perfectly, I don't have tantrums any more, but I do get frustrated. That's the thing about being an athlete: being good is not enough – you have to be the best. It's not something you can teach, but every athlete who gets to an Olympic level has that same drive. We know our flaws before anybody else can point them out. I was seven when I started diving. I loved the water but found swimming up and down a little bit boring – diving was much more fun. I started out jumping off the side of the pool, then tried the one-metre. The first time I tried the 10-metre platform I was eight years old. I remember crawling to the edge because I was too scared to walk – the board seemed to reduce in size with every step and suddenly looked like a tightrope. I was peering off into the water, thinking: 'There's no way I can jump off this.' But once I was in the air, there was no going back. It was a surreal and euphoric moment – freefalling for 1.6 seconds. As soon as it was over, I knew I wanted to do it again. My childhood was brilliant. I was always outdoors, and we used to go for weekends away in our caravan in Newquay. I felt very safe, loved and cared for. Because I was so happy with my family, I used to hate travelling for competitions – I would get so homesick. It was terrifying to be on the other side of the planet from your parents when you're 10 years old – especially when everyone else competing was much older. I can't imagine how painful it was for my parents to hear their son crying on the end of the phone. Advertisement Related: Jeff Goldblum looks back: 'My brother was an interesting dude. When he died it was terrible, monumental' My dad Rob was my biggest cheerleader. He would work all day, pick me up from school, take me to the pool and stay all evening until I finished training. He would be there for every competition. We were a team, and it was our dream together. He was great at teaching me about perspective: if I bombed out at a competition, he would say: 'You came 30th, but you're still the 30th best in the world.' When dad died [of a brain tumour in 2011], I went to training the next morning. I carried on competing without a proper break. Maybe it's a British thing, but me and my family wouldn't speak about his passing that much. It's as if we didn't want to upset anyone, or make them feel uncomfortable. I also felt that I had to be the strong one – the person who could support my family. It was only when I met my husband Lance, and he would ask why I didn't speak about my dad, that I allowed myself the space to grieve. And it still hits me now, especially when those major milestones happen. He missed me winning my first Olympic medal, my wedding, my first son's birth. Lance and I met at a dinner in 2013. We talked and talked until we both realised how similar our lives were. He had just lost his brother; I'd lost my dad. He had just won his Oscar; I had just won an Olympic medal. It was the first time I could complain about success to somebody who knew I wasn't really complaining about success. I was complaining about how to deal with what happens on the other side – the pressure and expectations. Knowing that nothing would ever compare to that feeling again. Advertisement I met Lance in March and came out to the media nine months later. I don't think I would ever have said anything about my private life unless I had met someone like Lance. Once we fell in love, I knew I couldn't keep it a secret. It was absolutely terrifying, posting the video on YouTube, because my management at the time had not been encouraging, and told me that I was going to lose my sponsorship. It was a scary thing to do, but once it was out there I was glad. It took all of the pressure off. I could be me for the first time. In 2024, I competed at the Paris Olympics, this time with my sons in tow. Being a dad was still my priority, so I had to deal with running on low sleep. I went to bed at 8 o'clock, because I didn't know how many times I'd be up in the night. I'd wake early for training but would make sure I was home to help Lance with bedtime. I always found it incredibly difficult to leave them for competitions, and I carried a sense of guilt with me. My husband is so supportive, and he's sacrificed a lot for me. But now I've retired, it's his moment. He's like: 'It's my turn to get my career back on track!' I have been an athlete for most of my life, so it's taking time to adjust to my new reality. I am so used to being disciplined that even if I'm out for dinner on a Saturday night, and someone asks if I'd like a glass of wine, it takes me a second to realise I am actually allowed to. Food is the same. When I was about to go to the 2012 Olympics, I was told by a coach that I needed to lose weight. After that, I had some issues with eating disorders. At the time it was something that men didn't really speak about, so I kept it to myself and felt very alone. Once I was able to get the proper nutritional support and learned more about what my body needed, and how to fuel it, then my recovery started to unfold. But in truth, that feedback still affects me today. I know how I can look, and how I did feel, at my peak. Now that I'm not training six hours a day, six days a week, I am never going to be in that same form. When I look at this photo, I think about how innocent I look. The boy in the photo has no sense of what society thinks is right or wrong. I could live and be happy and free. I am so glad my parents were the kind of people who celebrated whoever I was; an Olympian diver or a boy who liked to wear tea towels around his waist.
The Guardian
4 hours ago
- Health
- The Guardian
Tom Daley looks back: ‘My management said if I came out, I'd lose sponsorship'
Born in Plymouth in 1994, Tom Daley is Britain's most decorated diver. He was 13 when he made history as Britain's youngest competitor at the 2008 Olympics, and the following year became a world champion. He won gold at the Tokyo Olympics with his synchronised diving partner, Matty Lee, before retiring from diving in 2024. He is married to the screenwriter Dustin Lance Black, with whom he has two sons. The documentary, Tom Daley: 1.6 Seconds, is available to stream on Discovery+ from 1 June. I used to be obsessed with wearing tea towels. I'd make sure the fabric was completely lined-up and tucked in neatly. If it was in the slightest bit ruffled or messy, I would get upset and rip it off and try it all over again. This was the beginning of my perfectionism – and possibly the first signs that I might not be 100% straight. My mum says that as a kid, I was very sweet but I knew what I wanted. What did I want? To do the best I could at anything that I tried. That is still my mentality today. If I'm going to try something and it doesn't work out perfectly, I don't have tantrums any more, but I do get frustrated. That's the thing about being an athlete: being good is not enough – you have to be the best. It's not something you can teach, but every athlete who gets to an Olympic level has that same drive. We know our flaws before anybody else can point them out. I was seven when I started diving. I loved the water but found swimming up and down a little bit boring – diving was much more fun. I started out jumping off the side of the pool, then tried the one-metre. The first time I tried the 10-metre platform I was eight years old. I remember crawling to the edge because I was too scared to walk – the board seemed to reduce in size with every step and suddenly looked like a tightrope. I was peering off into the water, thinking: 'There's no way I can jump off this.' But once I was in the air, there was no going back. It was a surreal and euphoric moment – freefalling for 1.6 seconds. As soon as it was over, I knew I wanted to do it again. My childhood was brilliant. I was always outdoors, and we used to go for weekends away in our caravan in Newquay. I felt very safe, loved and cared for. Because I was so happy with my family, I used to hate travelling for competitions – I would get so homesick. It was terrifying to be on the other side of the planet from your parents when you're 10 years old – especially when everyone else competing was much older. I can't imagine how painful it was for my parents to hear their son crying on the end of the phone. My dad Rob was my biggest cheerleader. He would work all day, pick me up from school, take me to the pool and stay all evening until I finished training. He would be there for every competition. We were a team, and it was our dream together. He was great at teaching me about perspective: if I bombed out at a competition, he would say: 'You came 30th, but you're still the 30th best in the world.' When dad died [of a brain tumour in 2011], I went to training the next morning. I carried on competing without a proper break. Maybe it's a British thing, but me and my family wouldn't speak about his passing that much. It's as if we didn't want to upset anyone, or make them feel uncomfortable. I also felt that I had to be the strong one – the person who could support my family. It was only when I met my husband Lance, and he would ask why I didn't speak about my dad, that I allowed myself the space to grieve. And it still hits me now, especially when those major milestones happen. He missed me winning my first Olympic medal, my wedding, my first son's birth. Lance and I met at a dinner in 2013. We talked and talked until we both realised how similar our lives were. He had just lost his brother; I'd lost my dad. He had just won his Oscar; I had just won an Olympic medal. It was the first time I could complain about success to somebody who knew I wasn't really complaining about success. I was complaining about how to deal with what happens on the other side – the pressure and expectations. Knowing that nothing would ever compare to that feeling again. I met Lance in March and came out to the media nine months later. I don't think I would ever have said anything about my private life unless I had met someone like Lance. Once we fell in love, I knew I couldn't keep it a secret. It was absolutely terrifying, posting the video on YouTube, because my management at the time had not been encouraging, and told me that I was going to lose my sponsorship. It was a scary thing to do, but once it was out there I was glad. It took all of the pressure off. I could be me for the first time. Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion In 2024, I competed at the Paris Olympics, this time with my sons in tow. Being a dad was still my priority, so I had to deal with running on low sleep. I went to bed at 8 o'clock, because I didn't know how many times I'd be up in the night. I'd wake early for training but would make sure I was home to help Lance with bedtime. I always found it incredibly difficult to leave them for competitions, and I carried a sense of guilt with me. My husband is so supportive, and he's sacrificed a lot for me. But now I've retired, it's his moment. He's like: 'It's my turn to get my career back on track!' I have been an athlete for most of my life, so it's taking time to adjust to my new reality. I am so used to being disciplined that even if I'm out for dinner on a Saturday night, and someone asks if I'd like a glass of wine, it takes me a second to realise I am actually allowed to. Food is the same. When I was about to go to the 2012 Olympics, I was told by a coach that I needed to lose weight. After that, I had some issues with eating disorders. At the time it was something that men didn't really speak about, so I kept it to myself and felt very alone. Once I was able to get the proper nutritional support and learned more about what my body needed, and how to fuel it, then my recovery started to unfold. But in truth, that feedback still affects me today. I know how I can look, and how I did feel, at my peak. Now that I'm not training six hours a day, six days a week, I am never going to be in that same form. When I look at this photo, I think about how innocent I look. The boy in the photo has no sense of what society thinks is right or wrong. I could live and be happy and free. I am so glad my parents were the kind of people who celebrated whoever I was; an Olympian diver or a boy who liked to wear tea towels around his waist.
Daily Mail
9 hours ago
- Business
- Daily Mail
Three-bedroom detached house on sale for £199k has a very unusual feature in the living room
A three-bedroom house has just gone on sale - but potential viewers will face a shock when they take a look at the living room. At first glance, this home in Bridgend seems like a typical detached property, boasting three floors and a garage on the side. And in the current economy snapping up the spacious house for £199,950 is a deal many buyers would think about making. On closer inspection, however, it has a very unusual feature that might not float everybody's boat. Embracing the area's proximity to the sea, this homeowner has hung an eight-foot shark on the wall. Taking to TikTok, @HousingHorrors took a peek at the terrifying interior decoration centrepiece, which boasts a blue and white design to match the walls. The detailed animal bust complements the old-fashioned diving suit which tops a bookcase in the room, but clashes sharply with an equally bizarre red model car. 'This is the b****y eight-foot shark. What the b****y hell are the owners thinking,' the TikToker said. 'Here's another angle of it and I need to zoom in. That is absolutely b****y huge, and not only that but there's also a photo of them, I'm assuming, diving. 'But also there's this weird car on the side here. I've never seen anything quite like this. 'It looks like there's some random figure with a bear on the side of it. Now, it's kind of cool, I don't mind it that much, but it is very very unusual. 'I suppose it's unique you could say.' The social media personality then pointed out that the model shark and accompanying retro car looked out of place alongside the relatively normal features of the rest of the house. But, in conclusion, the TikToker praised the mercurial design technique and at one point even joked, 'take my money'. He added: 'It's safe to say the absolute icing on the cake is definitely the eight-foot shark in the living room. 'I'd be interested to know what it's actually made of. I'm assuming it's fibre glass, I may be wrong, maybe plastic, but let me know what you guys think.' The rest of the living room consisted of a leather sofa and a circular mirror above a wood-burning stove. In another room, two leather chairs were decorated with tartan upholstery and a large portrait over another fireplace. One bedroom has been given a flash of colour by some olive green wall paint, while another features an unusual wooden four-poster frame. The property is described as dating back to the 1800s and being close to the M4 corridor. It lies on Cefn Glas Road in the Newcastle Hill area of the Welsh town and also boasts a garden.
Free Malaysia Today
12 hours ago
- Health
- Free Malaysia Today
Malaysian man drowns while diving in Aceh
The diver was said to have attempted to surface following the instructor's instructions but lost consciousness upon reaching the surface. (Freepik pic) PETALING JAYA : A 33-year-old Malaysian man drowned while diving in the waters off Iboih in Kota Sabang, Aceh, Indonesia, yesterday morning. Berita Harian reported that the victim was diving at the popular site with two other Malaysians and a dive instructor when the incident occurred at 9.30am. The daily quoted Berita Rakyat Aceh as saying Indonesian police rushed to the site after receiving a report. The group had been diving for about 20 minutes at a depth of 30m when they were caught in a strong underwater current. The victim was said to have attempted to surface following the instructor's orders but lost consciousness upon reaching the surface. He was immediately assisted by the others and taken to Pantai Iboih in a speedboat. Cardiopulmonary resuscitation was administered by the instructor and fellow divers before he was taken to a nearby clinic. He was pronounced dead upon arrival an hour later at 10.30am. His body was taken to Sabang City Hospital for a post-mortem. The remains are expected to be repatriated to Malaysia once the post-mortem is completed.
CBC
2 days ago
- Climate
- CBC
Why music makes us groove, and more...
Mutant super-powers give Korean sea women diving abilitiesThe Haenyeo, or sea women, of the Korean island of Jeju have been celebrated historically for their remarkable diving abilities. For hour after hour they dive in frigid waters harvesting sea-life, through pregnancy and into old age. A new study has shown they are able to do this because of specific genetic adaptations that appeared in their ancestors more than a thousand years ago. These genes make them more tolerant to the cold, and decrease diastolic blood pressure. The women also spend a lifetime training, beginning to dive at age 15 and continuing on until their 80s or even 90s. Melissa Ilardo of Utah University and her team published their findings in the journal Cell Reports. This dessert is automatic and autonomous Care for a slice of robo-cake? Scientists in Europe have baked up a cake with pneumatically powered animated gummy bears, and candles lit by chocolate batteries. They think their edible robotics could develop in the future to food that could bring itself to the hungry and medicine could deliver itself to the sick. Mario Caironi of the Italian Institute of Technology and his colleagues presented their creation at Expo 2025 Osaka. Shrinking Nemo — heat is causing clownfish to downsizeScientists have found that clownfish, made famous by the Disney movie Finding Nemo, have an ability never seen before in fish in the coral reefs. When the water they live in gets warmer, they are able to shrink their bodies — becoming a few per cent of their body length shorter — to cope with the stress of the heat. Melissa Versteeg of Newcastle University says the size of the clown anemonefish is important for their survival and their ranking within their hierarchical society. The research was published in the journal Science Advances. When the music moves you — the brain science of grooveYou know that groove feeling you get when you listen to certain music that compels you to shake your bootie? Scientists in France investigated how our brains experience groovy music to better understand how we anticipate rhythms in time. They discovered that we perceive time in the motor region that controls movement. Benjamin Morillion from Aix Marseille Université said they also found a specific rhythm in the brain that helps us process information in time, that could predict if a person thought the music was groovy. The study was published in the journal Science Advances. Scientists hope a new storm lab will help us understand destructive weatherExtreme weather is far less predictable than it used to be, and now a new research centre at Western University wants to transform our understanding of Canada's unique weather systems. The Canadian Severe Storms Laboratory will collect nation-wide data on extreme weather, including hailstorms, tornadoes, and flash flooding, and look for patterns to help predict where they'll be hitting and how to prevent the most damage. Producer Amanda Buckiewicz spoke with: Greg Kopp, ImpactWX Chair in Severe Storms Engineering and CSSL founding director at Western UniversityHarold Brooks, senior research scientist at NOAA's National Severe Storms LaboratoryJohn Allen, associate professor of meteorology at Central Michigan UniversityPaul Kovacs, executive director of the Institute for Catastrophic Loss Reduction at Western Brown-Giammanco, director of Disaster and Failure Studies at NIST
